Scrabble Addicts, continued
by nativefloridian
Summary: Picks up after ch 39 of Scrabble Addicts; however, the story veers sharply into fairly dark hurt/comfort territory, so a change in rating for this section of the story was justified.
1. Chapter 40

Private Felser was not surprised when Major Beck's humvee screeched to a halt down the block from where they had found Heather. He was surprised, however, that Beck wasn't wearing either armor or helmet. They had not secured the area yet; to walk around like that was asking for trouble. To make matters worse, he focus was…off. He was clearly a man on a mission, but he was disregarding all protocol.

And that's when he saw a man creep out from behind a corner to attack the major. Felser opened his mouth to call out a warning, but Beck took down the assailant with brutal efficiency and just kept walking. _Well, that's one less prisoner to feed_.

Beck walked into the building where they had found her. She was in the back room of an old computer repair shop. He was intercepted by a female private, who tried to divert him, to no avail. He stormed in the doorway…and then stopped dead in his tracks. He felt himself retching at the obscenity in front of him. He looked for a trash bin, only to have it snatched away from him by another female private whom he had completely failed to notice.

He puked on the floor instead, regretting the alcohol. When he was able, he turned a glare to the private.

"What the - ?"

"Evidence, sir." She told him, holding the wastebasket away from him

"Evidence?"

She held it up to him so he could see the used condoms, then quickly snatched it back as he heaved again until there was nothing left. When he was done, the private mercifully gave him a towel to clean up. Steeling himself, he turned back to Heather, noting the lime green duct tape.

_He had used her own duct tape to blindfold her. _That was the first coherent thought that went through his head, and he was shocked at the banality of it. That _that_ was what he thought of when she was curled up in a ball, naked, bruised, and chained to the bed. He shook himself, and started to move towards her again.

"Sir – Don't."

Heather suddenly tensed, raising one leg into a striking position, like a coiled snake

"She'll kick you, sir. Hard. Knocked me over."

He noticed a faint footprint on her chest to verify her claim.

"Heather." He used his most cajoling voice. "Heather, it's me. It's – " he choked up, unable to continue. He noticed her leg waver from its vigilance, and he stepped closer. It snapped back into position. "Heather, please." He had to get through to her. She couldn't see him, so she had no reason to believe it was him – she probably thought she was hallucinating his voice.

"Te amo."

"Eddy?" she croaked.

"Si, mi amor."

He went to her; she threw herself into his embrace, finally allowing the tears to fall.

Private Morales was shocked by the scene before her. Not by the abuse endured; she'd seen that before, far too often. She and Sergeant Henke, as the only females in their squad, were the ones who dealt with these situations when they arose. No, she'd seen this kind of abuse before. Which only made the scene before her more stunning.

Heather had held up through nearly a week of hell. Not just physically – mentally. She still had fight in her. And now, she was buried in the arms of a man. The fact that she allowed him to so much as _touch_ her was amazing; many victims flinched from the slightest touch after being violated like that, even if the other person was a woman, or a close friend.

But then there was one more piece of data to factor in.

Private Morales spoke Spanish.

That little snippet of information – that simple exchange – would help explain the scene before her. How they had managed to keep a relationship this serious – with this level of devotion – quiet was beyond her, and yet they had.

A sob – or a moan, it was hard to tell which – cut through her thoughts, and she re-focused on the pair, hit afresh by the intensity. The quiet tears coming from the major's eyes were enough to break her heart. The tortured sobs that wracked Heather's body tore at her very soul. She suddenly felt like an intruder, invading an intensely private moment, so she turned on her heel and left to stand guard on the door, ignoring the blurriness in her vision.

Later – she wasn't sure how much later – she heard the major call out quietly.

"Private?"

"Sir?" she poked her head in. He gestured for her to come in. She found a shivering Heather wrapped in the major's jacket. Her tears had stopped falling, but only because she was exhausted, nearly passed out. There would be plenty more later.

"Is there a blanket? And some water?"

"I'll check."

"Also – a medic. And we're going to need a bolt cutter." He added, looking behind Heather at the chains around her wrists.


	2. Chapter 41

In the back of the humvee, Beck bit back the urge to tell the driver to hurry up yet again. Heather was bundled up in his arms; he'd gotten her to drink a little water and she'd just finished a bit of bread. He looked out the window, seeing that they were still twenty miles from Jericho. The potholes weren't helping their time, either.

Just then, he felt Heather go limp in his lap.

"Heather? You okay? Heather?" he patted her cheeks to rouse her. "Heather?"

Just then the medic reached over, putting her hand on Heather's neck.

"Her pulse is regular, sir. She's zonked out."

"Zonked out? Since when is that a medical term?"

"It's not. But…she's not in danger, medically, really. It's just… you know how, after thanksgiving dinner, when you're warm and full and surrounded by family, you get really sleepy?"

"Yes…"

"It's sort of like that, but on steroids. She just ate and drank and this is the first time in a week that she's felt safe. Her body has decided it's time to catch up on some much-needed rest."

Beck considered the medic's words. In the end, what convinced him was Heather's regular breathing. He shifted slightly, kissing her cheek in a spot where he could find neither cut nor bruise, then cradled her head against his shoulder.

And silently urged the Humvee on.


	3. Chapter 42

There was a stretcher waiting at the med center, but Heather resisted any attempt to put her on it.

"I won't leave you, I'll be right here. Just let me put you down so they can help you."

The only response was a whimper. He sighed.

"Where's her room?"

"Over there."

He carried her over and sat down on the bed, settling her in his lap. Gail followed him in. Kenchy came in a minute later, having clearly just dragged himself out of bed.

"All right miss, I need to examine you now. Major, you need to leave."

"No." His answer was quiet but firm.

"Major, now."

"I'm not leaving."

Kenchy was irritated now. He'd dealt with officers before, officers who thought their ranks meant the rules didn't apply to them.

"Sir, despite your rank, you are not the one in charge here. I am."

"Rank's got nothing to do with it." Beck said

"Then le - "

"Doctor, it's – " Gail tried to cut in, but she was in turn cut off by Heather.

"I want - " Heather's voice was hoarse, but firm. Everyone stopped talking to look at her ." - I want Eddy here."

"Who?" Kenchy said.

"I have a first name, you know."

He watched comprehension –finally - dawn on the doctor's face as he took in the scene before him.

"Oh." Kenchy shook himself. "Ok. So, miss, is there anything that hurts in particular, other than your wrists and… the obvious?"

She shook her head, but then she spoke.

" – Pregnant?"

"Miss, it's a bit early to tell if – "

"Yes." Edward said, causing a small smile on Heather's face.

"Wait, what?" Kenchy said.

Gail spoke softly in the doctor's ear. "She's a few weeks along. At least, she was a week ago."

"That complicates things." He pondered for a moment. "Well, for now, let's go ahead and get her cleaned up." He turned to the major. "Are we worrying about DNA evidence?"

Edward whispered in Heather's ear. She nodded.

"We already have plenty of evidence."

"Alright, I'll be back in a bit."

"Ok, now _please_ let the nurses help you." Edward pleaded

There was no whimper this time, so Gail spoke.

"Okay, honey, it's me, Mrs. Green. I'm going to look at you now. I'll do my best not to hurt you. I'll start with your face."

Even with the warning, Heather jerked at her touch. Edward pulled her close and caressed her cheek.

"Maybe – the tape – get rid of the tape." He suggested. "If she can see – "

Gail looked on at the pair, at the way she leaned into his caress and offered a suggestion of her own.

"How about _you_ get rid of the tape?" She returned his questioning look with a pointed glance at his hand, which did not cause her to flinch.

Over an hour later, she was cleaned up. He'd ended up bathing her himself. Actually, he'd done almost all of it, Gail directing and assisting him. He didn't know if she really looked any better. Yes, she was clean, but that only revealed her even-paler-than-usual complexion which in turn emphasized the cuts and bruises. Her hair was gone; huge hunks had been cut out with the duct tape and the clots of blood, so they'd gone ahead and very carefully shaved it, avoiding the bumps and cuts there, of which there were plenty.

Another hour and a half, casts were on her fractured wrists and her cuts had been dressed and stitched where necessary. The cuts on the soles of her feet – from kicking people, no doubt – would make walking painful for quite a while. There was nothing they could do about the bruises. She'd been hooked up to an IV. And then, finally, they'd let her cry herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 43

Edward sat on the side of Heather's bed in the moonlight. His hand held her fingers, the only part of her hand that wasn't covered by the casts for her fractured wrists. She was asleep, having been cleaned up, examined and treated. It had been quite an ordeal, people poking and prodding her when she wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry.

After it was all over, he'd held her as she cried herself to sleep. He'd wept with her, unable to stop himself even after she'd finally drifted off. He sat at her side, watching her sleep, her shaved head covered by his army cap.

He wasn't sure when he'd nodded off; the first thing he heard was someone bursting in the door. He reacted on pure reflex, roughly throwing the intruder up against the glass window. It took a moment to recognize (a very terrified) Jake Green.

"Jesus, Jake, can't you knock?"

"I _thought_ I raised him to." That was Gail, entering the room. "You really should listen to your mother." She watched her son nod emphatically, backing away, hand on his head, still recovering from Beck's utterly unexpected explosion. "Though, major, we'd appreciate it if you didn't throw anyone else into the window. We're a bit short on glass these days." She pointed at where the impact of Jake's body had cracked the window.

A whimper from the bed got their attention. Beck rushed over to Heather, who had been awakened by the sudden violence.

"Eddy…" Heather clung to him, grasping a fistful of shirt.

"Shhhh, it's ok. It's just Jake. It's ok. He's going to knock next time." His glared at Jake. Jake looked properly abashed, although there was also curiosity at the scene before him. Clearly he hadn't heard the whole story before he'd rushed over to see her.

"I'm sorry, Heather. I heard they'd found you, and I ran over to see you. I didn't mean to startle you." He paused. "Though I really don't think anyone's getting past the major." He readjusted his shirt from where it had been yanked up short.

Heather nodded acknowledgment. Then she lifted her head to whisper in Edward's ear. He nodded, moving to help her up.

"Why don't you go get some ice for that?" Beck said. Gail took the hint and dragged Jake out as he helped Heather to the bathroom.

Jake shifted the ice on his head out by the nurses' station.

"So is she going to be okay?"

"Well, physically, probably."

"Physically?"

"She's a pretty girl, Jake. What do you think they did to her?"

"Oh." Jake deflated as it registered, looking through the blinds at a sobbing Heather, buried in Beck's arms. It still struck him as odd that she clung to him so. "But if that's the case, how can she - ?"

"How can she what?"

"Let him touch her."

"She loves him. And I think he's the only person she truly trusts right now."

"Wow. I knew she had a thing for him, but I didn't think it was that…" he struggled to find the right word.

It finally dawned on Gail that her son didn't have the whole picture.

"Jake, it wasn't a 'thing'. They were lovers. For months."

"But – but – he said he liked her, but he said that he didn't want to put her in any more danger."

"Which is why they were _covert_ lovers."

Jake stared at the scene through the window. Beck caught him and glared back before closing the blinds.

"Sucks when it happens to someone _he_ cares about, doesn't it?" he said, his voice suddenly acid.

The ER went silent. The silence didn't last however, broken by the sharp sound of Nurse Green slapping her son.

"Johnston Jacob Green Jr.!"

The entire ER cringed as Jake stood in shock.

"I know what Beck did to you. I may never fully forgive him myself for what he did to you – I'm your mother. _But_ – you've been through worse. The time you boys spent in New Bern comes to mind. AND, if you make another comment like that, I will never speak to you again." Jake swallowed audibly.

"Sorry, mom."

"Good. Now go home, get cleaned up, and rest a bit. You can visit later, when you're not so crabby. And knock next time."

"Yes, mother."

"That's better." She said, turning away. "That boy, I swear…"


	5. Chapter 44

"How's the baby?"

It was the first thing out of Heather's mouth when Kenchy walked through the door the second time.

"I – I don't know." Heather was visibly upset. "I'm sorry, but we don't have an ultrasound machine. We were on the waiting list, of course, but we were way down that list." He shot a glance at the major, hoping that he –

"My detachment wasn't large enough to receive that kind of medical support." Beck said sadly.

"Miss, the best way we can take care of the baby is to take care of _you_. So we're going to take care of you as best we can."

"That's right." The major stepped in, taking Heather fully into his arms. "And if that baby is half as stubborn as you are, it'll be fine."

"Promise?"

That was when Nurse Green entered the conversation.

"Honey, that baby is just as stubborn as you are, if not more so." Heather looked at her, wanting to believe in the certainty on the older woman's face. "Remember, he's pretty stubborn himself." She said, pointing at the major. She was rewarded with a ghost of a smile on both of their lips; Beck's face also showed gratitude for her encouragement. "Now, do us a favor and let us take your vitals. And then eat something. We have some milk and some applesauce to start with…"


	6. Chapter 45

Edward Beck didn't want to let Captain Dunne in. Not because he had anything against Karin, but because he knew why she was here. He didn't want to force Heather to relive that, even though he knew, logically, she had to. That she would whether they asked those questions or not. But in the end, he let her in, returning to Heather's side.

"Ma'am – Heather – I need to ask you some questions. I – well – " She shrugged. "Do you remember anything that might help us find him? What he looked like, any names that were said, anything at all?"

"I never saw him." That Karin could believe. "He snuck up behind me." Then a flash of memory. "Oh god. Elly. I have to talk to Elly."

"Later. I promise." Edward murmured in her ear.

"He was taller than me – taller than you, too." She said, looking at Edward. "He had a beard." She thought hard. "I think – I think he worked in the factory."

"Why?" asked Karin.

"A couple of comments –and he smelled like – paint thinner, one time. WD-40, another. And I think that's where he got the acid for the lock."

Karin paused, taking notes.

"And I'm pretty sure Constantino was there."

"He was there?"

"They never used names, but yeah, I recognized Constantino's voice. But it was another guy who…I think he was training him or something. Ow!"

"Sorry." Edward forcibly relaxed his hand. He hadn't thought about how hard this interview would be for _him_.

"I don't think he was from here. Not recently, anyway. He didn't know much about me."

"How do you know that?"

"From some of the things he said. Also, he seemed really surprised when I picked the handcuffs." Despite himself, Edward smiled. "And he was _really_ pissed when I took off the zip-tie cuffs" Edward kissed her forehead.

"That's my girl."

"Heather, why did he hit your head so many times?" She looked at Karin, who had asked the question. "I've seen captives before. That many blows to the head is… unusual."

"I – I goaded him into hitting me, into knocking me out." She admitted.

"Wha – why? Why would you do that?"

"So I wouldn't have to be awake for - he was usually done by the time I woke up."

Edward had been holding a cup of water in his hand. Now it was just shards of broken plastic in his white-knuckled fist. _Usually_. The word stuck in his head. _Usually. Meaning that at least once she'd waken up to…_ He forced himself to let go of the mangled cup as Karin looked on sympathetically.

"Go on." He said, his voice a little too level.

Gail was startled, to say the least, when she saw a tanned fist come through the wall of the nurse's break room. She quickly deduced who it was and hustled out to calm Beck. She found him sliding down the wall onto the floor. She glanced down the hall to Heather's room; she was mercifully asleep. Probably sedated.

"Major."

He just looked up at her with tears in his eyes, ignoring the cuts on his hand. She sighed, and gingerly lowered herself to sit next to him.

"Major, I – " Words failed her, so she put her arm around him. He resisted at first, but then relaxed, letting his head fall forward and the sobs out.

"I'll kill him. I'll take him and I'll – I'll – " he faltered, not able to think of a fate grisly enough. Gail hugged him. Then, in a small, pained voice, he added. "Assuming I ever find the bastard." The admission clearly hurt him.

"They'll find him. You just take care of Heather. Don't worry about anything else right now."

They sat there for a few minutes, passersby noticing and then studiously ignoring them.

"I should go back to her." He slowly stood.

"Alright. But now you have to help an old woman off the floor."

"Of course. And… thank you."

"You're welcome." She gave his hand a final squeeze. "And if you need anything – for her _or_ for you, just ask."


	7. Chapter 46

Edward shifted yet again, grateful to Gail for finding the new bed. It wasn't any softer, but it was wider, originally designed for the obese that no longer existed in Jericho. It fit two skinny people fairly well. He managed to slowly move his leg to a position where it would wake up and Heather would stay asleep. It was so easy to wake her these days. That was why he was here, leg going numb, and why Gail had brought the new bed.

Aside from the first twelve hours of exhausted unconsciousness, Heather had had trouble sleeping more than two hours at a stretch due to the nightmares. As a result, neither she nor Edward had any real rest for two days, until after comforting her yet again, they had fallen asleep together. They had woken up five hours later, feeling better for the rest but worse for the contorted positions they had slept in. Within a day, Gail had located the larger bed for them. And while Heather had yet to make it through the night, she could at least get some decent sleep before she woke from the dreams.

Beck had taken to sitting on the bed even when he wasn't sleeping, so that Heather could. Her unconscious knowledge that he was _there_ delayed the inevitable, and softened the blows when they did come. He would sense her tensing, hear her mutterings, and then speak softly, cajoling her awake as he held her hand.

He learned quickly not to restrain her, even as she struck out at the figure in her nightmares and bruised him instead. Never to hold her wrists without warning, or grab her suddenly. He memorized the places he could caress her without irritating cuts or bruises, and the places that caused her to flinch though there was no injury there. He relearned Heather in the space of days.

He'd had her bedding and pajamas brought in to help her sleep. He'd been flattered when she chose his arm over her teddy bear, even if it meant his arm felt the numbness of pins and needles with alarming regularity.

He'd taken to reading to her. She'd tried to read on her own, but most of her books were trade paperbacks, making them hard to hold with broken wrists. He read her her favorites, sci-fi and fantasy, of places that were far away and extraordinary, as far away from this hospital room as he could take her. He sang her soft lullabies to help her drift off.

He ate with her, he slept with her. And in those hours where she slept – or tried to – he read reports, trying to keep up with what was going on with his men. They were going to need to move out of the camp soon. Those tents were on their third tour of duty and would not survive the coming winter…


	8. Chapter 47

The corporal stopped the vehicle at the hospital and stepped out. Colonel Markham, Texan guard, followed.

"What are we doing here? I want to talk to Major Beck."

"This is where he is."

"Is he injured?"

"No."

"Then why - ?"

"He's with Heather." Corporal Jones pointed out a door.

"Knock, or else?" asked the colonel, referring to the sign on the indicated door.

"See that crack in the glass?"

"Yes…"

"That's from the last guy who came in unannounced."

"Ah."

Jones knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, then cracked the door.

"Sir?" he asked quietly.

An equally quiet voice replied.

"Who is it?"

"Colonel Markham to see you, sir."

Papers shuffled.

"Send him in."

The colonel stepped into the room. He found the major sitting on the bed in his t-shirt, his arms around someone – presumably Heather – who was curled up, sleeping in his lap. She wore the majors' hat on her shaved head, which didn't quite hide the stitches on her scalp. In the corner, he saw the major's things, and the table next to him was covered in paperwork. Major Beck had clearly been here for quite some time.

"I apologize for the informality." Beck said.

"No, it's ok." His voice was muted, taking his cue from the major.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"I was looking for a status report. Perhaps I should talk to your second in command?"

"She's out of the office right now, checking the perimeter. We're stretched pretty thin. I can give you an overview, but I've had to delegate a lot the past few days."

"Well, I guess I'll take the overview." He looked around for a place to sit. Beck noticed his gaze.

"Sorry, colonel. Just move my things." He pointed at a chair by the door. Heather stirred in his arms, her plaster-gauntleted hand sliding out from under the blanket as she shifted position. He waited for both Heather and the colonel to get settled before he started.

"Well, we've got the ASA conducting air raids about weekly; they do a fair bit of damage each time, inflicting casualties and draining our resources, before we can chase them off. On the other side, we've got New Bern." His voice hardened. "They're not working with the ASA, but they're not allies either. They're raiding us too, looking for food. Frankly, I don't trust Constantino – their leader – at all. He'd sell us to the ASA if he thought he could get a concession for New Bern." The colonel didn't notice how Beck's arms had tightened around Heather when he spoke of New Bern.

"I really hope Texas can help us out. We're running low on men, munitions, food, medical supplies – everything. And, honestly, if nothing changes, we're screwed. My men are tired, and their morale is declining with every raid."

"I see. Well, Texan forces are a few days away at the rate they're going. Perhaps an air drop can at least get you supplies."

"That would be much appreciated, sir."

"It would be only appropriate. If it weren't for Jericho, we'd never have found out the truth."

"Thank you anyway."

The colonel stood, accidentally causing the chair to skid noisily on the floor. Heather's eyes snapped open, and the colonel noticed an instinctive flash of fear as she saw him. She tensed, taking on a defensive posture.

"Shhhh-hhh. It's ok, he's not going to hurt you."

"Of course not. Why wou-?"

Beck cut him off with a look, eyes dark with grief and suppressed rage. His eyes widened in realization.

"I'm sorry." The colonel paused, not sure what else to say. He settled for a nod before he exited.


	9. Chapter 48

Captain Larry Baker was preparing his plane for takeoff after unloading his cargo in Jericho when he noticed the unusual nature of his passengers for the return trip. Major Beck was pushing a pale woman in a wheelchair; behind him was a older woman in scrubs carrying two civilian duffle bags. The party was finished off by a Lieutenant Posly, carrying two army-issue bags.

"Hey, Joe, would you see what those civvies are doing here?"

Larry finished his checklist and wondered where Joe was. He went to go look for him and saw him in the hold still. He glanced over at his passengers. The major was strapping the pale woman into the restraint, and there was something about his manner that stuck in his mind, though he couldn't put a name to it. She was close enough now that he could see the woman was injured, casts on her wrists and multiple bruises. The nurse was talking to Joe, apparently asking him where best to stow the wheelchair. He watched the scene unfold until the passengers were settled and Joe returned.

"So, what's the deal? Who are they?"

"The woman in the wheelchair is Heather Lisinski, the local liaison. The older woman is her nurse, Gail Green."

"Gail Green? As in Jake Green?"

"I believe so."

"Huh." He paused in thought. His orders said he was to pick up Major Beck and a couple of his staff - for debriefing, he assumed. He supposed that covered 'local liaison', but nobody had mentioned that they'd be bringing along a nurse. Speaking of which… "Is Miss Lisinski well enough to fly?"

"I think so. I get the impression that Mrs. Green wouldn't allow her to come if she weren't."

"Then what's so serious that she needs a nurse?"

"I don't know, specifically. Mrs. Green was reluctant to talk about it."

Just then a buzz of static interrupted them.

"_Charlie Romeo Niner, come in please."_

"Charlie Romeo Niner, here"

"_Be advised, enemy planes headed your general direction. Suggest you leave soonest."_

"Copy that. Joe, let's get going." Larry still wasn't sure that this Heather should be flying on a military cargo plane, but at this moment that was a secondary concern.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Forty-five minutes later, they were out of range of the enemy planes and the curiosity about his passengers resurfaced. He handed the controls over to Joe and headed back to the hold.

"Sorry for the rush, ladies and gentlemen, there were some people we had to avoid."

"Not a problem." Major Beck replied. Quietly, so as not to wake the woman sleeping soundly on his shoulder.

"I see. You do know she's drooling on your uniform?"

"I do." His tone was, inexplicably, grateful. At the captain's confused look, he explained, "It means she's actually getting some real sleep."

"Ah." He turned to nurse Green. "As a pilot, is there anything about Heather's needs I should know? Will she be okay at regular altitude? You do know this plane is not known for smooth landings?"

"I think she'll be okay. It's obviously not ideal, but it will do."

"Just so you know, my orders don't exactly cover transporting you, Mrs. Green. I don't know as they're expecting you. I'm not sure what kind of accommodations there are for you."

"I don't need much. Just so long as I'm with these two." She said, nodding at the major and Heather. "It might just be easier to get Heather a room in the medical wing. Edward and I can take turns with her."

" 'Take turns with her'?"

Beck spoke up.

"While it's true she's coming along as a member of my office staff, she's also going to take advantage of your medical facilities."

"Uh…ok…" Beck sensed his hesitation, and realized that there was probably a restriction on civilians receiving medical care.

"She received the injuries because of her position in my office. The least the army can do is give her medical care." His voice was very firm, and something about his manner made it clear any other option was unacceptable.

"You should talk to Major Dawson, sir." Beck nodded.

"Of course, there may be an easier way. They treat military dependents, right?"

"Well, usually. Things have gotten fuzzy with the lack of documentation…"

"I'll sign any document they want."

Captain Baker's eyes narrowed in comprehension; suddenly the major's complete lack of objection to drool on his uniform, even though he was flying to meet high-ranking officers for the first time, made perfect sense.

"Hey, Larry!" Joe yelled back into the hold. The major, the nurse, and the lieutenant all winced at the sound and immediately looked to Heather.

"Dammit, Joe! Be quiet!" he called back, trying simultaneously to be quiet and yet loud enough for Joe to hear him.

"Larry?"

"Hush!" he started back to the cockpit to shut Joe up.

"What? I didn't hear that! Oh, nevermind, I'll - " Joe came back and nearly ran over Larry on the stairs.

"_Shut up!" _Larry pointedly looked over at their passengers. Heather wasn't awake, but was clearly reacting to the noise in her sleep. She winced at something only she could see, and Major Beck gently reached out and touched her hands. She reacted by grabbing onto his and holding on to them with a white knuckled grip as she fought the menace in her dreams. After nearly thirty seconds, her eyes popped open, wide with terror as she looked around.

"Eddy!"

"I'm right here. I'm right here. It's over, you're safe." He pulled her toward him, but was hampered by the restraints. He looked over at the pilots. "We're not expecting any turbulence, right?"

"Th-that's correct, sir." The wide-eyed Joe replied, watching as the major immediately unbuckled Heather and pulled her up into his arms. "S-sir, Ma'am, I – I didn't kn- I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. It won't happen again." Beck nodded acknowledgement, but his attention never left Heather.

"We should go now." Larry said, prodding Joe in the appropriate direction.

"Right." Joe replied, breaking his gaze.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Major Beck."

"Major Dawson."

"I understand you want us to treat…" He checked his paperwork "Heather Lisinski."

"I expect you to, yes."

"You're aware that we don't generally treat civilians here?"

"Her injuries are a direct result of her work for the military. It would basically be workman's comp."

"How so?"

"I hired her as my local liaison. She did her job so well the local insurgents put a bounty on her head. Despite my efforts, they got to her anyway." His voice was bitter with self-condemnation.

"Got to her?"

"Kidnapped her. Tortured her. Raped her." His voice was hard. Then, a note of pride. "But she didn't break. She didn't surrender."

"I'm sorry." Major Dawson's voice was sincere. "But there's something else I need to ask you about."

"Anything."

"What is your relationship to her?"

"I love her."

"Well, that's fairly obvious. But…fiancée? Wife?"

"Not yet. It's complicated."

"I can imagine."

"We were lovers. I didn't want anyone to know. Constantino already considered her a traitor twice over, already had a bounty on her head; I didn't want him to find out she was literally 'sleeping with the enemy'. And the ASA – well, you know how they use loved ones." Dawson nodded. "We'd managed to more or less keep it under wraps when we found out she was pregnant. That was the same day she was taken." Beck paused. "I'd considered asking her to marry me as soon as the possibility of pregnancy came up. I just didn't get the chance. Now I can't. Not yet."

Dawson looked over through the glass at Heather. She held Mrs. Greens' hand, but her eyes had never left Major Beck.

"Somehow I think she'd say yes."

"Yes, but why? Because she needs me? Because she's afraid to be without me?" He looked at Major Dawson. "That's not the kind of yes I want."

Dawson looked at him for several seconds. Then he rose.

"I think I can find a room for her."

"Thank you." The gratitude in his voice was palpable.


	10. Chapter 49

It was the most unusual military base he'd ever seen – because it consisted of a block of upscale but neglected, empty houses that had been converted into barracks. He'd missed the conversion, being in the hospital with Heather, but he'd been kept up to date on its progress. Heather had been interested in the progress reports, too, since it had been her suggestion, and he had encouraged the distraction.

The house with the biggest kitchen had the new mess hall; the house with the built-in generator housed the CIC. There was talk of making the yards into crop-bearing fields – most every home had revived the 'victory garden' concept, and these houses had a _lot_ of acreage. One of the more off-the-wall suggestions had been to convert the pools into fish farms.

They walked into their new quarters. They were the only 'private' quarters in the newly christened Military quad. It was the master bedroom, of course, but the reason that they'd picked _this_ master bedroom was that this bathroom was wheelchair accessible. There was also a small sitting area/table, so that Beck could work, even hold small meetings without leaving Heather alone.

"So, what do you think?" Edward asked, leaning over Heather's chair.

"It's big." She said quietly.

"True." He said. "What would you like to try first, the bed or the sofa? I'm told they're both quite comfy."

"Let's try the sofa. I'm not that sleepy right now."

"Alright." He wheeled her over, and helped her stand and pivot onto the couch. She winced anyway; the cuts on her feet were still pretty raw. He waited for her to settle into a comfortable position.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at an object on the table covered with a cloth and a bow.

"What's what?" he looked. "Hmm, dunno. They must have left it here for us. Wanna see what it is?"

"Sure."

He pulled off the cloth with a flourish.

Heather gasped.

"Oh my God."

It was a Scrabble game. And not just any Scrabble game; a deluxe turntable edition with raised edges. Heather had been looking for a new board, since hers was nearly split down the middle. She hadn't found anyone willing to give theirs up. Prying loose _any_ board game was nearly impossible anymore. This was – well, amazing especially since they had ceased production of the turntable edition since before the bombs had gone off.

"How in the hell did they find this?"

Edward murmured something and went to the door. He found most of the office staff there, looks of anticipation on their face.

"How'd she like it?"

"She's impressed. So am I. How did you get it?"

"Bargained for it."

He looked at them disapprovingly. He knew how much that must have cost.

"Before you object, sir, you should know – well, we have a bit of a confession to make."

Lt. Goodman stepped up.

"We, uh, started a small betting pool about a month ago."

"A betting pool?"

"On when you two would get together."

After a moment of shock, Edward felt his lips twitch, giving way to a chuckle.

"Obviously, nobody won. So…we got you this."

"Then thank you. Thank you very much."


	11. Chapter 50

He came back into the bedroom to find Heather quietly sobbing on the couch, and immediately felt guilty. He'd done his best to have a quick shower while she slept, and he'd left the door open so he'd hear her if she had a nightmare. He immediately went to her side and put his arms around her, waiting for her tears to stop.

"Heather, I'm sorry. I should have heard you."

"It's okay. It wasn't a nightmare. It was the wheelchair." She told him, leaning into his embrace.

"What?" he asked, not seeing the connection.

"It was squeaky."

"Squeaky?"

She nodded.

"I got the WD-40 out to fix it. I – it was so hard to spray with these stupid casts – I got it everywhere but the chair. And then the smell hit me."

"Wha – Oh." Her voice replayed itself in his mind. '_he smelled like – paint thinner, one time. WD-40, another.' _"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. I just won't use it again." Her words made his heart sink. The helplessness caused by her fractured wrists was bad enough, but they would heal, eventually. But Heather _loved_ tinkering. If that bastard had ruined that for Heather – well, he had just given Edward yet another reason to kill him. Slowly.


	12. Chapter 51

It was in the middle of a meeting when it happened. This meeting was too large to be held in their room, so they were in the living room. Heather was there, curled up on the couch next to Edward under her quilt. It had worked out well – instead of being seated by seniority, as was typical, those officers Heather did not know well sat further away than those she did, and were not offended by the fact. In fact, Heather had contributed a couple of suggestions. True, they had been whispered into the major's ear, but it was proof she was paying attention.

But then they heard a yip and a private skidded to a stop at the edge of the living room.

The private looked embarrassed, which was quite a contrast to the cheerful yaps of the half-grown puppy running around the living room.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I'm _trying_ to train her." Then he addressed the dog firmly. "Come." The puppy just looked at him, cocking her head.

"How long have you had her?" Beck asked.

"A couple of weeks. Her siblings are coming along just fine, but this one…I don't know what I'm going to do with her."

The puppy, continuing to ignore its trainer, had hopped up onto the couch and plunked down on Heather's lap like she'd always belonged there. Heather, unable to resist the puppy-dog eyes, was petting it. Major Beck, unable to resist Heather's smile, turned to the private and sighed.

"What's her name?" he asked in a wry tone.

"Katie, sir." He said. He was fighting a smile, as were most of the officers in the room at the preemptive adoption they'd just witnessed. "Should I bring some food by later?"

"Sure, why not?"

And that was how Katie adopted Heather.


	13. Chapter 52

" - And that's where we stand as far as resources, sir."

Colonel Nelson nodded. Overall, he was impressed. They had taken very little and turned it into a lot. These houses, for instance, were a clever use of under-utilized property.

Just then, he heard a whine from the bed. A puppy had just accidentally rolled off of the body pillow she had been sleeping on, disturbing her slumber. He smiled at the scene. Then, the body pillow started to move.

"What the - ?"

"Sir?"

"Is that a _person_ in bed over there?"

"That's Heather."

"You realize how inappropriate her presence is?"

"It's irregular, I admit, but – "

"You can't have a civilian here! It's against all sorts of regs. And a hell of a security risk – we were discussing classified material!"

"Sir, please don't wake her." Beck noticed her face. Too late, she was coming around. Angry voices always triggered nightmares. Dammit.

"Good, then I can ask her to leave." The colonel moved towards her, as if to shake her shoulder – and was immediately intercepted by Major Beck, who grabbed his wrist.

"Touch her and I'll break your arm." The flat threat was backed up by a bark from the bed – and the major's entire staff had placed themselves between them and Heather. Nelson blinked, wondering what the hell had just happened. He outranked everyone in that room, but rank didn't matter right now. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor and stepped back. Beck released him and went to the woman in the bed, putting his arms around her. Beck, looking over Heather's shoulder, addressed him one more time.

"You should go now." He turned to the door. "Private Morales!"

The door opened.

"Please escort Colonel Nelson to the visiting officer's quarters."

"Yes, sir. Uh, where would that be, exactly?"

"Not in this house."

Morales took in that clipped reply – and the defensive positions of the others – before addressing the colonel in a classic "I'm not even going to ask" tone.

"Right this way, sir."

Once safely out of the house, he asked the question.

"Who _is_ she?"

"That's Heather, sir."

"Why is she there? And why - ?"

"I don't know if you noticed her injuries – " he shook his head "but she's in a bad space right now." she fought off her own memories of the incident. "She was beaten and raped, sir. We found her chained to a bed."

"Oh." He shook himself. "But shouldn't she be someplace where they can take better care of her?"

"This _is_ that 'better place'. It's irregular as all hell, I'll grant, but it's the best solution we could come up with."

"Really? A _military barracks_ is the best place?"

"It's more of a person than a place. She won't be separated from Major Beck. Not for any length of time."

"Why him?"

"I could say that it's because he's all she has - her family was gone before the nukes - or that they were covert lovers, or that she's carrying his child. But – it's more than that." She sought an explanation, finally settling on one. "It's as if she had just enough trust left in her to trust one person completely – and she chose him." She paused. "Honestly, sir, if he weren't the CO of this outfit, he'd be on compassionate leave. As it is, he's on limited duty."

The colonel paused to digest this. The reasoning was sound, but he still had one more concern.

"And security?"

"She's not really a security risk, sir."

"But if she's as fragile as you say – she would break if - "

"Sir, she won't break."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because she _didn't_." He looked at her. "She's our local liaison. That's why she was tortured, sir. And, well, we all feel a little responsible. I don't know if Beck will ever forgive himself for putting her in that position." She paused. "And even if that weren't true, she's not alone at all, ever. Beck does his best not to leave her. When he has to, Emily or Mrs. Green stay with her. And there's always a guard on her door as well. Nobody's going to hurt her again. Not if we have anything to say about it."

They walked on in silence; the colonel returned the salutes that he received walking into the house next door.

"This is it, sir."

He sighed as he dropped his things inside the door of the bedroom.

"Private…would you mind taking me back over there? I need to apologize."

"Sir, if I may…I would wait. Let them both calm down. Apologize in the morning. Would you like some dinner in the meantime?"

The last thing Colonel Nelson expected when he reached for the bowl of macaroni and cheese was to be swatted by a spatula.

"Private!"

"Uh, sorry sir. Didn't realize that was a colonel's hand." But when Nelson reached for it again, the private pulled it away. "It's Heather's dinner, sir." When Nelson looked askance at him, he explained. "It's hard to eat spaghetti with two fractured wrists."

"Ah. Carry on."

Colonel Nelson knocked on Beck's door at city hall. He knew Beck had noticed him when he walked in, because he'd immediately closed the set of blinds closest to his desk. As he waited for the major to acknowledge him, he noticed a cot sticking out from behind the major's desk. From the indentations in the carpet, things had been moved to create an alcove for Heather to sleep in. Her cot was in the corner; his desk was directly in front of it. Closing the furthest set of blinds gave her three 'walls' for a measure of privacy and a sense of security. _And Major Beck is the fourth._ He'd heard more stories the night before, including how Beck had assaulted Jake Green for intruding on her hospital room. A furry head lifted itself to look over the desk at him. _And now she's got an actual guard dog, too._ He suppressed a sigh as Beck opened the door. He did not, however, move aside to invite his visitor in. Nelson was not surprised.

"Major, I – may I come in?" Beck didn't say anything out loud, but the answer was clearly 'no'. "I would like to apologize. To both of you."

Beck finally relaxed a little bit.

"Maybe later. She just got to sleep."


	14. Chapter 53

The first time a child had run to greet Heather, just after leaving the hospital for the first time, Edward had cringed, and began to warn him off; her parents, seeing his reaction and knowing Heather's condition, tried to call him back. But Heather had greeted her former student with open arms, pulling him in for a hug. As they watched Heather talk with Mark, they saw her smile.

It didn't take long for word to spread. Now, when one of Heather's students saw her on the street, their parents sent them to say hello. Frequently, they had a gift for her – a drawing, a flower, some trinket they had made. And always a hug. There were occasional instances of a child being less than cautious in their affection and hitting a sore spot, but Heather forgave them instantly, just as she had Elly when Elly had come to visit. Or, as she'd told Edward, told her she'd forgiven her. Elly had done nothing wrong, nothing that needed forgiveness, but she wouldn't understand that until she was older, so she had accepted the apology with a smile and a hug.

These days, it took them longer to get anywhere. But Edward didn't mind; Heather would arrive at their destination with a smile on her face. And if she was feeling really bad, he'd take her for a st(roll) through the park; it was better than any medicine they had in the pharmacy. He remembered fondly the day they'd talked her into joining them on the swings. He'd done the pushing, but Heather's childish cries of 'Higher! Higher!' had left him smiling all day.

Heather knew exactly what everyone was doing, but it didn't make it any less effective. She needed the reminder of hope for the future, of the kindness that still existed. And children were its most potent carriers. They let her know that their child would be born into a world where cruelty was the exception, not the norm, despite her experiences.

They were at the monthly town barbeque when it happened. A tradition born out of the new way of life, it was the social event where people could relax, dance, play football, date, and enjoy fresh meat instead of salted or smoked.

He and Heather were sitting next to the bonfire with Jake and Emily when raucous laughter started behind them. Heather's reaction to the sound was instant and total. She went rigid with a hiss of recognition. She didn't have to explain anything; Edward immediately rounded on the trio of laughing men.

"YOU!"

The laughter immediately stopped, as did the conversation of everyone around them. All three men in his field of vision looked at him in fear, but it was easy to spot the one he wanted. The other two men were scared and confused; the one in the middle was simply terrified. As Beck's focus narrowed on the one he wanted, his companions hastily scooted away.

The remaining man froze, like a deer in headlights. Time itself seemed to pause. Then, like hitting play, the scene began to move again. The as-yet-nameless man turned tail and ran. There was initial resistance from the crowd, until they realized what was going on, and opened a path for the major. Nobody tried to slow down the runner, either; there was clearly no need, and nobody wanted to get involved when there was the slightest chance of coming into contact with an enraged Beck.

In hindsight, he was glad the bastard had run away from the crowd. It meant that the children didn't see what happened next. How he turned his years of army training on its head. He had been trained to kill quickly, and when need be, quietly.

This was neither.

He was simply pounding away. Despite the blood pounding in his ears, he'd heard bones break; he knew there were likely ruptured organs and internal bleeding. From the way he was breathing, there was probably a rib in his lung. Taken individually, emergency surgery could fix his injuries. Together, they equaled a slow and painful death. Something the bastard seemed to grasp.

"Just…just kill me… already."

The words actually caused him to pause. He considered it.

"No."

And he walked away, leaving him to die a slow, agonizing death.

He returned to Heather, taking over for Emily who was comforting her.

"Eddy."

"It's okay now."

"Is he dead?"

"He will be soon. Is there anything you wanted to say to him?"

"No. But I want to see his face. I want - " she broke off; Edward understood. Being able to identify your enemy was important. Otherwise, you saw him everywhere, in every stranger's face.

"Later, then. After."

"Okay."


	15. Chapter 54

Major Beck was sitting on the front porch of the house with Heather, enjoying the sunset. Heather's morale – hell, _his_ morale – had improved greatly since they'd found the bastard, apparently in town as a spy. He'd taken several hours to die, and Kenchy hadn't wasted any pain meds on him. Edward was sure that that was a violation of the Hippocratic oath in some way, but he didn't very much care.

A giggle brought him back.

"The baby just kicked."

"Yeah?" he asked. He reached over to feel her belly and was rewarded with another kick. "Oh my, we've got a soccer player in there." He grinned at her, struck by the sudden urge to kiss her senseless. He settled for a kiss on the cheek. She looked at him oddly, sensing his restraint, and cocked her head to the side.

"When are you going to ask me to marry you?"

He burst out laughing.

"God, I've been waiting for you to say that."

"Really?"

He ran a hand through her short hair.

"Yeah. I didn't want to rush you, but I've been wanting to ask…"

"How long?"

"Since the day you were taken. I don't ever want to lose you." The unspoken _again_ hovered in the air between them.

"So?" she said expectantly. He chuckled, and moved to kneel in front of her.

"Heather, will you marry me?"

"Of course. Now get up here and kiss me properly." Her response got a few chuckles from the others on the front porch who had heard the whole thing.

"Yes, Ma'am."

She kissed him back with an enthusiasm he hadn't expected, despite her request. But she eventually broke off, breathing heavily, a huge smile on her face that mirrored his own. Then the applause started. Heather blushed, and tried to hide in his arms.

"Too late, Heather." He whispered in her ear. "Hi, Reverend. Finishing up your rounds?"

"_Reverend Jones_ saw that?" Heather squeaked.

"Every bit." The Reverend said. "And there's nothing to be ashamed of, so relax."

"But you're –"

"Heather, I'm a reverend, not a prude. I'm not going to tell God that you need to go to hell for kissing." He saw her hand move to her belly, now beginning to show. "Or even that. The formalities matter very little; it's the commitment that matters, not the ceremony. It's obvious you two love each other; you don't need rings or a piece of paper. Of course, I'm happy to help you make it official."

Edward looked at Heather, eyebrow raised.

"Now?"

"Why not? I _have_ been waiting for a while."

"I – can I at least invite the Greens?"

"Of course." He gestured at a private, who ran over to the Green's Pines house. Gail, Emily and Jake had all moved into Emily's house to make it easier for Gail and Emily to assist with Heather; it was one block over from the military compound.

Her first request after he'd carried her over the threshold of their quarters was a kiss. He obliged, of course, carrying her over to the couch. The kiss evolved into a quite pleasant makeout session – until he started to lean her back on the couch, whereupon she stiffened in his arms.

"Sorry." He said. "We don't have to – "

"I know. But it's our wedding night, I thought I should give you _something_. And, honestly, I'd forgotten how much fun kissing was."

"Tell you what. When all this is over – when you're ready – we can renew our vows – full church wedding, fancy dress, three-tiered cake, open bar, the whole nine yards – and then I'll take you on a proper honeymoon. Someplace with beaches, palm trees, hammocks…margaritas… sunblock…" _I know just the place, too, assuming it's still ours. _His family's beach house had been the location of many a honeymoon.

"Oh, I like the sound of that. Particularly the honeymoon."

"I look forward to it." He said, moving a stray hair. At the look on her face, he asked. "What is it?"

"I – I'm relieved, I guess."

"Relieved?"

"That you still want me."

He rocked back in his seat in shock.

"Wha- of course! I just _married_ you! How could you think - "

"Eddy, I _know_ you love me." She put as much conviction into it as she could. "But you're human – and I've seen the way you look at my scars. I –"

"Heather, your scars don't make you ugly or 'undesirable'. And that would be an extremely hypocritical position for me to take."

"Then what is it?"

"They remind me of things I didn't prevent. Things I damn well should have prevented." He gently traced one of her scars, slowly fading from pink to white. "They remind me of how I failed you."

Heather felt a large lump in her throat.

"Eddy – " she wrapped her arms around him. "You didn't fail me. You've been here for me. You've done more than I could ever ask, more than I could ever repay."

"But – "

"Eddy, _I_ was the one who refused a sentry on the door. _I_ was the one who opened the door when I shouldn't have. Don't you dare go blaming yourself for this."

"I should have put a sentry on the door anyway. I let my feelings for you cloud my professional judgment."

"All that proves is that you love me, you fool. Now stop beating yourself up over things you didn't cause."

"But – "

"Eddy." Her voice was suddenly firm, and she looked him right in the eyes. "_Stop_. You didn't cause this. You took steps to prevent it. It happened anyway, when _I_ disobeyed protocol. _It is not your fault_." She held his gaze until he nodded. It wasn't outright acceptance of her statement, but it was in the right direction. "Better." She said softly. "Now how about a nice game of scrabble?


	16. Chapter 55

They were at the monthly town barbeque when it happened. A tradition born out of the new way of life, it was the social event where people could relax, dance, play football, date, and enjoy fresh meat instead of salted or smoked.

He and Heather were sitting next to the bonfire with Jake and Emily when raucous laughter started behind them. Heather's reaction to the sound was instant and total. She went rigid with a hiss of recognition. She didn't have to explain anything; Edward immediately rounded on the trio of laughing men.

"YOU!"

The laughter immediately stopped, as did the conversation of everyone around them. All three men in his field of vision looked at him in fear, but it was easy to spot the one he wanted. The other two men were scared and confused; the one in the middle was simply terrified. As Beck's focus narrowed on the one he wanted, his companions hastily scooted away.

The remaining man froze, like a deer in headlights. Time itself seemed to pause. Then, like hitting play, the scene began to move again. The as-yet-nameless man turned tail and ran. There was initial resistance from the crowd, until they realized what was going on, and opened a path for the major. Nobody tried to slow down the runner, either; there was clearly no need, and nobody wanted to get involved when there was the slightest chance of coming into contact with an enraged Beck.

In hindsight, he was glad the bastard had run away from the crowd. It meant that the children didn't see what happened next. How he turned his years of army training on its head. He had been trained to kill quickly, and when need be, quietly.

This was neither.

He was simply pounding away. Despite the blood pounding in his ears, he'd heard bones break; he knew there were likely ruptured organs and internal bleeding. From the way he was breathing, there was probably a rib in his lung. Taken individually, emergency surgery could fix his injuries. Together, they equaled a slow and painful death. Something the bastard seemed to grasp.

"Just…just kill me… already."

The words actually caused him to pause. He considered it.

"No."

And he walked away, leaving him to die a slow, agonizing death.

He returned to Heather, taking over for Emily who was comforting her.

"Eddy."

"It's okay now."

"Is he dead?"

"He will be soon. Is there anything you wanted to say to him?"

"No. But I want to see his face. I want - " she broke off; Edward understood. Being able to identify your enemy was important. Otherwise, you saw him everywhere, in every stranger's face.

"Later, then. After."

"Okay."


	17. Chapter 56

Major Beck was sitting on the front porch of the house with Heather, enjoying the sunset. Heather's morale – hell, _his_ morale – had improved greatly since they'd found the bastard, apparently in town as a spy. He'd taken several hours to die, and Kenchy hadn't wasted any pain meds on him. Edward was sure that that was a violation of the Hippocratic oath in some way, but he didn't very much care.

A giggle brought him back.

"The baby just kicked."

"Yeah?" he asked. He reached over to feel her belly and was rewarded with another kick. "Oh my, we've got a soccer player in there." He grinned at her, struck by the sudden urge to kiss her senseless. He settled for a kiss on the cheek. She looked at him oddly, sensing his restraint, and cocked her head to the side.

"When are you going to ask me to marry you?"

He burst out laughing.

"God, I've been waiting for you to say that."

"Really?"

He ran a hand through her short hair.

"Yeah. I didn't want to rush you, but I've been wanting to ask…"

"How long?"

"Since the day you were taken. I don't ever want to lose you." The unspoken _again_ hovered in the air between them.

"So?" she said expectantly. He chuckled, and moved to kneel in front of her.

"Heather, will you marry me?"

"Of course. Now get up here and kiss me properly." Her response got a few chuckles from the others on the front porch who had heard the whole thing.

"Yes, Ma'am."

She kissed him back with an enthusiasm he hadn't expected, despite her request. But she eventually broke off, breathing heavily, a huge smile on her face that mirrored his own. Then the applause started. Heather blushed, and tried to hide in his arms.

"Too late, Heather." He whispered in her ear. "Hi, Reverend. Finishing up your rounds?"

"_Reverend Jones_ saw that?" Heather squeaked.

"Every bit." The Reverend said. "And there's nothing to be ashamed of, so relax."

"But you're –"

"Heather, I'm a reverend, not a prude. I'm not going to tell God that you need to go to hell for kissing." He saw her hand move to her belly, now beginning to show. "Or even that. The formalities matter very little; it's the commitment that matters, not the ceremony. It's obvious you two love each other; you don't need rings or a piece of paper. Of course, I'm happy to help you make it official."

Edward looked at Heather, eyebrow raised.

"Now?"

"Why not? I _have_ been waiting for a while."

"I – can I at least invite the Greens?"

"Of course." He gestured at a private, who ran over to the Green's Pines house. Gail, Emily and Jake had all moved into Emily's house to make it easier for Gail and Emily to assist with Heather; it was one block over from the military compound.

Her first request after he'd carried her over the threshold of their quarters was a kiss. He obliged, of course, carrying her over to the couch. The kiss evolved into a quite pleasant makeout session – until he started to lean her back on the couch, whereupon she stiffened in his arms.

"Sorry." He said. "We don't have to – "

"I know. But it's our wedding night, I thought I should give you _something_. And, honestly, I'd forgotten how much fun kissing was."

"Tell you what. When all this is over – when you're ready – we can renew our vows – full church wedding, fancy dress, three-tiered cake, open bar, the whole nine yards – and then I'll take you on a proper honeymoon. Someplace with beaches, palm trees, hammocks…margaritas… sunblock…" _I know just the place, too, assuming it's still ours. _His family's beach house had been the location of many a honeymoon.

"Oh, I like the sound of that. Particularly the honeymoon."

"I look forward to it." He said, moving a stray hair. At the look on her face, he asked. "What is it?"

"I – I'm relieved, I guess."

"Relieved?"

"That you still want me."

He rocked back in his seat in shock.

"Wha- of course! I just _married_ you! How could you think - "

"Eddy, I _know_ you love me." She put as much conviction into it as she could. "But you're human – and I've seen the way you look at my scars. I –"

"Heather, your scars don't make you ugly or 'undesirable'. And that would be an extremely hypocritical position for me to take."

"Then what is it?"

"They remind me of things I didn't prevent. Things I damn well should have prevented." He gently traced one of her scars, slowly fading from pink to white. "They remind me of how I failed you."

Heather felt a large lump in her throat.

"Eddy – " she wrapped her arms around him. "You didn't fail me. You've been here for me. You've done more than I could ever ask, more than I could ever repay."

"But – "

"Eddy, _I_ was the one who refused a sentry on the door. _I_ was the one who opened the door when I shouldn't have. Don't you dare go blaming yourself for this."

"I should have put a sentry on the door anyway. I let my feelings for you cloud my professional judgment."

"All that proves is that you love me, you fool. Now stop beating yourself up over things you didn't cause."

"But – "

"Eddy." Her voice was suddenly firm, and she looked him right in the eyes. "_Stop_. You didn't cause this. You took steps to prevent it. It happened anyway, when _I_ disobeyed protocol. _It is not your fault_." She held his gaze until he nodded. It wasn't outright acceptance of her statement, but it was in the right direction. "Better." She said softly. "Now how about a nice game of scrabble?


	18. Chapter 57

Beck shot a glance through the glass of his office. He was glad to see Heather on the other side of it. She was at her desk, working. True, they'd moved her desk so it was right next to his on the other side of the glass, but she had started working – when she felt up to it – at her own desk. She sensed him looking and shot him a small smile. That small smile meant the world to him, and he smiled back.

Then he noticed a courier come in the door. It wasn't the usual courier, he noticed. He began to clear off his desk – the courier was clearly delivering quite a bit – and just about had it empty as the courier entered his office.

"The daily mail, sir. I need your signature on these." He said, handing over a stack about six inches tall, as well as a box.

"Of course." He began to sign. "Is Mitford ok, or does he have the day off?"

"Bit of a cold, sir."

"Ah." He continued to sign his way through the pile. About three-quarters of the way through, he noticed the courier looking through the glass at Heather. She _did_ look pretty damn cute right now; her clothes hid the scars and the casts, and the courier couldn't see the gentle baby bump when she was seated at her desk.

"Don't bother, soldier. She's taken." He said gently.

"I don't see a ring… " was the wistful reply. Beck decided he needed to bring the hammer down. Heather was doing well, but he didn't know if being hit on right now was a good idea.

"I couldn't find a jewelry store." He said, letting his voice harden. The soldier straightened instantly, facing the wall behind Beck's head at the announcement that _that_ was Heather, Major Beck's wife. He waited silently for the Beck to finish. When the final item was signed for, the courier took the clipboard and marched out of the office, never once looking towards her desk.


	19. Chapter 58

It was when they had finally breached the base perimeter that he allowed himself to remember Heather in their quarters.

He had tried not to think about this possibility as the ASA forces had pushed slowly south. Mainly because there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. Heather would have refused evacuation from Jericho, so there was no point stressing her out with an argument about it. He finally conceded to himself that she might have gone to Texas – but only if he had gone with her. And he was as loyal to his men as she was to Jericho.

"Go, sir." He looked up at Karin, startled out of his reverie. "There's not much more for you to do at this point, and it's nothing I can't handle. She's going to need you."

Not knowing any words to adequately convey his gratitude, he nodded and reached for his helmet. It was going to be close. His quarters were only two houses down from CIC, but here in the Pines, that was nearly three-quarters of a mile in full armor. He buckled his chin strap as he walked out the door and then broke into a dead run. The roar of battle – the shouts, the gunshots, the occasional explosion, faded into the background. He'd heard them all before, and they weren't important right now.

He'd almost made the porch when he was stopped by a gun pointed at him. A quick check showed that this soldier was wearing the ASA patch. He raised his arms slowly, hands empty, but not all the way up in surrender.

"Lieutenant, please. I need to get to my wife. I need to calm her before your men find her. If I don't, she'll have a panic attack. She's probably already having one. And that's the last thing she needs right now."

"If she doesn't resist, she'll be fine."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. She will resist. The last time she was held prisoner she was – " he broke off. The lieutenant's expression softened a little at that.

"I give you my word my men won't hurt her."

Beck pondered a moment. Lieutenant Davies seemed trustworthy enough.

"I believe you. _But she doesn't know that_. You _have_ to let me go to her. You can take my weapon, hold me at gunpoint, I don't care. Just please, please don't point one at her."

Davies considered for one second, then came to a decision. He reached over, took Beck's sidearm, and motioned for him to go on with the muzzle of his weapon.

"Thank you."

"Hurry up."

Beck needed no second urging. He sped into the house and found three soldiers about to kick in his door. He was too far away to block them so he bellowed out an order instead.

"Belay that!" He was not their CO, but command voice delayed them long enough for Davies to nod confirmation. In a much milder voice, he continued. "I have a key."

He walked up to the door. Before he opened it, however, he turned to the soldiers.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't storm in after me. I promise I won't misbehave, but I need to get to my wife, prepare her a little. I'm going to ask you not to threaten her in any way, or touch her. She's…been through a lot already. She has reason to fear men she doesn't know, and the fact that you're armed and taking her prisoner…well, it's going to evoke some pretty painful memories. Please give her space, and don't come between her and me."

One soldier, seeking clarification, spoke up.

"She was raped?"

"That's putting it mildly, private. They had her for nearly a week. Now if you'll excuse me."

He knocked on the door.

"Heather! Heather, it's me. It's Eddy. I'm going to come in now." He began to unlock the door when a thought struck him. "Who's your CO?"

"Colonel Briggs."

"Well, there's that at least." He hadn't personally met Briggs, but he had a reputation for being fair and following regulations, even after the bombs. He'd treat his prisoners according to the regs, even if the ASA considered them little more than propaganda.

He opened the door slowly, and found nobody there. The quilt was gone from the bed. He saw the tin of syringes opened on the nightstand, with one left in it. Gail must have used one, or had it ready.

"Heather? Gail?" he walked in, and, reaching the middle of the room, found himself wrapped in the quilt as Heather threw her blanketed arms around him. Gail followed more cautiously from the closet, capping the unused syringe she was holding with relief.

He held Heather tightly, kissing her cheek, murmuring Spanish into her ear. He felt her relax a little bit.

"Eddy, what's happening?" He felt the baby kick, as if adding its own voice to the complaint.

"We've been attacked."

"But we're okay, right? We drove them off?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?"

"Heather, I – we lost. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"We lost? Then how come you're here?"

"I came to find you. They were nice enough to let me."

"They? Who's 'they'?"

He looked back through the open door, at the ASA soldiers, who, while watchful, were mindful enough to have lowered their weapons and relaxed their stance. The lieutenant spoke softly.

"Ma'am, we won't hurt you. Colonel Briggs doesn't tolerate that sort of thing."

Heather's knees went out from under her; she grabbed for balance. Beck caught her and carried her to the bed.

"No. nonononono. Eddy, please. Stop this. You have to stop this."

He held her close, tears falling as he spoke to her.

"I can't. Dios, Heather, I would but I can't. Lo Siento." He rocked her back and forth until she had some semblance of calm. He knew it was only a façade, however. He could feel her pulse racing and the baby was kicking for all it was worth.

"Sir, Ma'am. We need to get moving."

"A moment, please." Gail spoke up. "I need to gather some things."

"What sort of things?"

"Medical things. Personal items. A couple of outfits."

"Medical items, sure, but the rest – we have clothes and things at camp."

"Maternity clothes?" Gail asked impatiently.

"Well, probably not."

"Then you'll excuse me." She began to move to the dresser. Davies sighed and gestured for Private Lane to make sure that was all she was packing.

"Now, Major, I'm going to have to make sure you're not carrying any weapons." He looked over at Heather, still wrapped in quilt, not sure how to search her. Beck followed his gaze and caught on quickly.

"Heather, why don't you give Gail the quilt so she can pack it?"

Reluctantly, Heather did so, revealing an oversized, worn T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, neither of which had pockets. Beck hugged her sideways, resting a hand on her belly in the process. He looked at Davies with a raised eyebrow, who nodded minutely, satisfied. Then he shrugged out of his jacket and emptied his pants pockets. He then put in the tin with the last two syringes of sedative in it.

He noticed Heather shivering (from cold or fear he didn't know) and spoke to the soldier by the hat rack. "Would you pass me the hat and jacket on the right there?" Private Engle looked at Lieutenant Davies for confirmation, as they were standard-issue army gear, Beck's name on them. "They're hers. You can search them if you want."

"Search the pockets."

Within the next minute, Heather was wearing the hat and jacket and seated in the wheelchair, which was a sign in itself. She'd begun resisting the chair lately, trying to walk as much as possible even though her feet weren't completely healed. He didn't much care for the reason, but he was glad she didn't put up a fuss. He had no idea how far they were going.

They were on the porch when it happened. Heather shrieked, leapt out of the chair, and tried to run. Beck caught her and held her tightly as she struggled to get away, recognizing this as a panic attack. Gail was there quickly, retrieving the syringe from Beck's pocket. Heather slowed, then stopped as the sedative kicked in. He shifted to pick her up, cradling her in his arms.

There was sudden quiet on the lawn, and it was not an easy one. His men were on their knees, most of them cuffed. Several had instinctively started to rise at Heather's cries, and the guards were pointing their guns at them.

"As you were." It was over, now, and his men could not help Heather by getting themselves killed. They settled, muttering. The intake guards went back to cuffing the remaining soldiers, the distinctive ziiiip! of the plastic cuffs cutting through the air.

"That's probably what set her off." Gail murmured. "Those damn zip-tie cuffs."

Beck sighed.

"You're probably right." He sat down on the porch swing. "And there's more to come, I'm sure." He said, caressing her cheek. Their escort did not try to move them, aware of the focus on the scene. The actions of the prisoners on the lawn made it clear that these particular prisoners were to be treated with special care.

After a minute or two, a man in the uniform of a colonel walked up onto the porch.

"You must be Major Beck."

Edward looked up at the man, noted the rank and name of the man who'd spoken, and nodded.

"And this must be Heather."

"Yes."

"I suppose you know I have some questions for you."

"Yes."

Briggs looked at the scene before him. There were many who would begin questioning now, while the major was still off-balance. But, somehow, he didn't think that he would get anything useful out of it. He stood and walked over to the lieutenant.

"Davies, get them settled. I'll come by when all the prisoners have been placed."

"Colonel."

"Yes?"

"I need to speak to a doctor."

"Is she okay?"

"For now. But I'm almost out of sedatives. I hate using them, haven't had to use them in a couple of months, but…"

"Of course."


	20. Chapter 59

The next time Briggs came to see them, he noticed several things. The first was how every soldier in the jail stood at attention when he came in. Not as a gesture of respect, not to him anyway, but …protectively. It was a fairly futile gesture, when you stopped to think about it, but every soldier stood as close as possible to the cell that held Major Beck, Heather, Gail, Captain Dunne, and Lieutenants Sorey and Goodman. The soldiers knew full well that they couldn't stop Briggs's men from doing what they would, but it was a message. Briggs knew that all the bars in the world couldn't stop a prison riot, especially when the prisoners were trained soldiers.

The other thing he noticed was that every thin mattress in the place – and most of the blankets – was underneath Heather's sleeping form. Gail sat on a chair next to her; Beck stood in front of her. The other three soldiers in the cell with them formed a solid line between her and the cell door and eyed him watchfully. They knew they had a special duty, being in the same cell with her. Again, they knew that they couldn't actually stop him from doing anything to Heather. But he was certain they'd die trying.

"Major."

"Yes?"

"Could I speak with you?"

"Pull up a chair."

"I was actually thinking the office would be a better venue."

"I'm not leaving her. The sedative's going to wear off soon, and waking up in a jail cell – "

Briggs bobbed his head in understanding.

"I want you to know – I'm sorry. I didn't know the whole extent of it before I arrived. My intel was old. She's still listed as local liaison on your roster."

"She still is."

"Well, that's all she's listed as. Not –" he shrugged "While my orders preclude letting her go, I'll make sure she's taken care of." He noticed Beck bristle at that. "Obviously, I can't do what you can." Beck nodded, forcing himself to calm in acknowledgement of the …compliment? "But if there's anything she needs – I know she's got some medical issues – "

"I think we've got that under control for now. But – other things. A female guard. No cuffs, even the sound of those damned zip ties sets her off. Angry, raised voices don't help either. Just – tread softly, you know?"

"I get the picture." He ran through the guard roster in his head. One stood out immediately; Lisa Harrison was quietly competent, capable but not brash. Now he needed to find two more like her.

"Major!" Gail called, alerting him that Heather was waking.

"Excuse me, Colonel."

"Of course."

As he walked out, he sensed more than saw a relaxation. The prisoners remained at attention, but the rigidity was gone from their posture, satisfied that, for now at least, Heather would be safe.


	21. Chapter 60

Heather woke slowly. Having finally accepted that she was once again a prisoner, she was constantly trying to stay between nightmares and wakefulness, usually by burrowing into Edward's arms as she slept. But she couldn't fight it anymore; her bladder won this battle. She opened her eyes, trying to ignore the bars. She was rather surprised to find Karin on the other side of them, in the next cell over. She looked around. Lieutenants Sorey and Goodman were on the other side of Karin. What the hell? She knew they wouldn't leave her voluntarily. (She would never have asked for the level of protection that had been offered, but she was immensely grateful for it.)

She looked around the cell she was in, hoping that Gail, at least, was still with her. She was, but she was asleep. Then, sitting in the far corner, she found three newcomers, all soldiers. One of them sensed her movement and looked up.

"Hi. You must be Heather."

Heather froze, but something stopped her from crying out. He was vaguely familiar, but she was equally certain they had never met. That familiarity was made clear when his two companions raised their heads as well. She smacked Edward.

"Eddy!"

"What! You okay?"

"Look!"

He blinked.

"Ok, I've officially lost my mind."

"Yeah, so did we. I tried to tell him that he made a terrible colonel."

"Hey, it wasn't the rank. How could I know that one of my former office aides would be manning the roadblock?"

"Eddy? What's going on?"

"I don't know." He turned to the older soldier. "Dad, what the hell is going on?"

"We heard you were in trouble, son. Tried to get here before the ASA, but didn't quite make it."

"And do what? Get captured with me when the ASA _did_ arrive?"

"The plan was to get you out of here and into Texas, or even home. I'd stay and take your place."

"And you?" he looked at his brothers. "What were you going to do?"

"Keep dad out of trouble." Philip said with a straight face. He managed to hold it for about three seconds, then they all burst out laughing.

"Oh, heck, I'm glad to see you, you fools. Heather, this is my dad, Jorge, and Philip."

"Hi."

"Nice to meet you."

"Thanks, you too. I, uh…well, I really have to go to the bathroom."

"Far be it from me to keep a pregnant woman from the bathroom." Jorge said, gesturing to the curtained-off toilet.

"Thanks." She said, on her way already.

"So, what's the latest scuttlebutt?" Edward asked.

"Well, US forces are holding in the Oklahoma panhandle. Haven't quite seen a shift in momentum yet, though."

"You idiot, I know how the _war_ is going."

"Mom's fine, so are Maria and Jessica and all your nieces and nephews. Even if they are disappointed that school's back in session."

"Naturally. I don't suppose you briefed them on your crazy plan?"

"Uh, not specifically, no."

"Mom's going to tear a strip off you when you get back."

"Yeah, we know. But we couldn't not try."

"Well, thanks anyway." He turned to Heather, coming out from the curtained-off toilet. "Feel better?"

"Yeah."

"So, not how I imagined introducing you to my family, but - " he broke off, surprised at her immediately hugging his father. His father looked just as surprised. After hugs all around, she returned to Edward's arms.

"Well, that was quick." He murmured into her ear.

"They're your _family_. If they're anything like you, I have nothing to worry about." She murmured back, kissing him on the cheek.


	22. Chapter 61

Beck was being escorted to the sheriff's office, which was now Briggs', for another chat. Briggs wanted intel; Beck gave him occasional tips on dealing with the local personalities in between telling him why he defected. He'd also warned him not to lean back in the desk chair, as it would tip over.

Beck almost didn't see him. He was a ratty mess, another captured New Bern rebel, sitting in a chair, facing the floor, giving monosyllable answers to the intake clerk. But when he passed him he recognized Constantino's profile. He immediately turned about, a motion that gave him a one second edge over his escort, and, using his feet, dumped him out of his chair. Now that his escort – and every soldier in the office – was looking his way, he did the quickest, most effective thing he could with his hands behind his back: he stepped on Constantino's throat and crushed his windpipe and spine.

He didn't feel the blows as they took him down, nor did he resist them. Nor did he hear a single voice until hers. Heather's voice came from down the hall, but it cut through all the others, wanting to know he was okay, demanding to see him.

"I'm okay, Heather. I'm great."

"What the hell is going on!" Briggs, having heard the commotion, had come to investigate.

"He just killed him, sir." That wasn't technically true, not yet, but he was already unconscious due to lack of oxygen. Death would only take a couple more minutes.

"What?" he looked at Beck, who nodded confirmation. "Why?"

"That's Constantino."

"He said his name was Smith." Interjected the intake clerk.

"He lied."

"So you killed him?" the clerk looked confused, and became downright incredulous when Briggs gave him a 'shut up' look and then spoke to Beck.

"I understand your reasons, but I would have liked some intel from him first."

"Sorry." The apology seemed less than sincere.

"Eddy! What's going on?"

"May I go back to my cell now?"

"Of course." The guards finally let him go, sensing that the threat was over. Briggs turned to the open-mouthed intake clerk and spoke quietly. "Tell me, what would _you_ do to the man who had your wife raped and tortured?"

"Oh."

Briggs shook his head, trying to settle his thoughts and his nerves. He'd thought his previous assignment was tough.

"Sir!"

"Yes, what is it?" he replied, turning to the guard.

"Heather would like to come see –" he gestured at what was left of Constantino.

"She would?"

"She wants to see that he's really dead."

"Hm. Can't say as I blame her." He shrugged as he walked off. "Fine with me."

Had he stayed, he'd have seen Heather spit on the body.


	23. Chapter 62

Major Beck was in Colonel Briggs' – formerly his own – office. Briggs was there, of course, but Valente was on the com. It was all he could do not to break the TV, even if it meant headbutting it because his hands were cuffed. He made a conscious effort not to hear what the man was telling Briggs. Because if Brigg's purposefully stony face was anything to go by, Beck damn sure didn't want to hear it.

"So, Mr. Beck." Hearing his name broke his effort to ignore. He clenched his teeth and his fists. "Apparently our intel on you was old." He shuffled papers around on his desk, mainly to drag things out and annoy Beck. He picked up a paper. "I see you gave up on your family."

"They're dead. Have been for a long time. Which you damn well know." His voice was harsh with pain. He sensed Briggs shift behind him. Briggs had confirmed his reputation as a decent officer in his dealings with Beck. He had found Becky's letter in his desk and returned it to him, along with the photo from his helmet. He'd had personal effects returned nearly across the board, so long as they weren't dangerous. Such decency had to make him uncomfortable when Valente neither denied or apologized in response to Beck's statement.

"Well, it's nice to see that you've been able to replace them so quickly."

"Sir!" Briggs protested. He could see Beck's control slipping, which was something he did not want to happen; he hadn't put leg irons on Beck after the Constantino incident because nobody else had been so monumentally stupid as to threaten Heather, which had seemed to be the only thing that perturbed the man. But Valente ignored his protest. _Of course. *He's* safe, hundreds of miles away. _Valente continued in the same conversational tone.

"…Assuming, of course, that that is your child."

"Hijo de Puta." Beck fought in vain against the handcuffs, and the two guards that held him back from the TV. Briggs spoke up.

"Take the prisoner outside." After some initial resistance to the guards, Beck went.

"Briggs. What the hell are you playing at?"

"Sir, you have no right to insult him like that."

"I was interrogating him!"

"You hadn't asked a single question. Nor is his personal life relevant."

"It is if we can use it to make him talk."

"Excuse me?"

"Send for his wife."

"What? Why?"

"He'll talk. One way or the other."

"What the hell is so important that you would threaten his _wife_? He's not high enough to know anything we don't already know!"

Valente just smiled at him, a cold, thin smile that caused a shiver to run down his spine. He realized it wasn't about what Beck knew. It was about breaking him. About punishing the traitor. He'd have to try something else, and he somehow knew the Geneva conventions would get him nowhere.

"Sir, if you so much as threaten his wife, all the work I've done to pacify this town will be undone, and then some. She's…a symbol. The prisoners treat her like a queen; they've actually got a watch schedule in the cells so nobody can sneak up on her. The _only_ reason the townsfolk don't riot over her incarceration is her continued good treatment and her obvious desire to stay with her husband. If you so much as _threaten_ to touch his wife, this town will burn down around me in record time."

"Is that so?" Valente looked out of the screen, contemplating. Then his gaze landed on Briggs. A look that had Briggs making a note to call his brother immediately after he got off the line with Valente, to tell him to run. "We'll have to think of something else, then." Valente said ominously. He then reached up to snap off the connection. Briggs scrambled for the phone.

Beck waited outside the door, watching Briggs talk to Valente. After he was able to calm himself, he was able to observe clearly. He hoped that Briggs didn't have any family of his own to worry about. But from the way he scurried to the phone after Valente hung up, it looked like he did. Finally, after a few minutes, Briggs came out.

"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"Thank you for getting me out of there. But I hope you don't have family of your own."

"I just got off the phone with my brother. He understands, and he can take care of himself. He's right near the border, too." He sighed. "Starting to understand why you don't like Valente."

"He'd just better pray he's never in the same building as I am, because I'll kill him."

"I suspect you'll have to get in line for that honor."

Beck chuckled.

"Probably will."


	24. Chapter 63

Author's note: I realized I still had a goodly chunk of this story unposted. It's not 'done', but at this point the muse has more or less gone. From here on out, things get choppy. I tried to keep things in chronological order, but there are gaps. Several of the chapters are just plot bunnies set in this universe at an indeterminate point in the future.

He wasn't sure what to expect. He was standing on the doorstep of Ally's parents with his new wife and baby in tow. He hoped that their long history – Frank had known him literally since birth – would prevent it, but he wouldn't be surprised if they slammed the door in his face. He certainly wasn't expecting to be wrapped up in a bear hug by his father in law.

"Hey, son."

"Hey." He replied, voice breaking. For a long moment, they just stood there. May I – may _we_ come in?"

"Of course." He said. "Honey! Come here! You'll never guess who just showed up!"

"Eddy!" Heather noticed his face wrinkle at the greeting. Interesting… She smiled at the sight of this tiny woman giving Ed a giant hug.

"Good to see you too. I just wish - "

"I know."

"Uh, I'd, uh, like you to meet Heather. And Alexandra."

It was all Heather could do not to squirm at the sudden shift in attention.

"Hi."

She expected a sort of unwilling sympathy – she got sympathy from everyone these days, and she wouldn't hold it against them for resenting the new wife and daughter of their son-in-law. What she didn't expect was a bear hug of her own, and it must have showed on her face.

"Easy, honey. Introduce yourself first." He gently pulled his wife back. "I'm Franklin Edmondson, and this is my wife, Donna."

"It's good to meet you."

"I…uh…"

"It's okay. We understand. Please, have a seat. Do you need to put the baby down somewhere?"

"Not right now, thanks. I - I'm sorry for your losses." Heather finally got out the standard condolence phrase.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry t-

"Don't." Franklin interrupted him.

"What?"

"Don't apologize. Not like you're responsible for it, because you're not."

"Wha-"

"You think I don't know? You blame yourself for not protecting them. And, son, if anyone gets the blame, it's me. I was at least in the same country as my girls."

"But – "

"But nothing. There's no reason both of us should take the blame."

"Either of you, for that matter." Donna interjected, eyeing her husband. Clearly they'd had this conversation before. She turned to Heather. "How was the flight?"

"Eh, it was a C-130."

After Edward left the room to relieve himself, Heather found herself in the awkward position of being alone with Allison's parents. _Good a time as any, _she thought.

"Do you have any pictures of Allison and Jenny, copies that you wouldn't mind parting with? Edward only has the one in his helmet." - _And he's too damn stubborn to ask for one himself – "_Also, we want to tell Alex about her sister when she grows up."

The bittersweet smile on their face showed that they heard her mental comment, too.

"Of course. Let me get out the albums."

When Edward came back, he found his wife and his former in-laws huddled over a photo album. When he saw them removing some of those photos, he knew.

"Heather, I told you, those are _their_ photos."

"Their memory is just as much yours, son." Franklin said gruffly.

"But don't give me your only copies."

"I know they have copy machines in Puerto Rico. Take the pictures home, copy them, and send us the copies. It's okay."

The sight of the two of them cooing over Alexandra caused her to cloud up.

"Would you like to be her grandparents?" Heather blurted.

"What?"

Heather paused, realizing what that could sound like to them, and hastened to explain.

"I'm not trying to replace Jenny. I just –" she bit her lip "I can't offer her grandparents. If you wanted – "

Allison's parents looked at her, visibly touched.

"We would be honored. Thank you."

Franklin cooed to the baby once more before a thought occurred to him.

"You know, we already sort of are."

"What?"

"This one – " he pointed to Edward "was my godson long before he was our son-in-law."

"So that would make her what, your god-granddaughter?"

"More like an absolutely grand goddaughter, aren't you, Alex?"

"She is pretty grand." Donna added.

All of a sudden, something occurred to Heather. She turned to Edward.

"I thought you said it was love at first sight."

"What?"

"With Allison. But if he was your godfather, surely you'd met his daughter before."

Edward chuckled.

"Heather, my father was transferred when I was thirteen. She was ten. I hadn't seen her in ten years – and even then – " he shrugged, indicating they hadn't socialized much.

Lieutenant Orbison knocked on General Edmonson's office door.

"What is it?" came a slightly irritated voice. The lieutenant winced, and hoped the general would forgive him for interrupting when he'd been told not to. He opened the door, shooting an apologetic glance to the generals.

"Sirs, I – something's happened, general, and, well, I could use your help."

"What is it?"

"You know the reporter Steven Hicks?"

"Yes…" Hicks was a new breed of reporter. Or rather, an old breed with a new target; the paparazzi that had previously focused on movie stars now went after the new celebs: the politicians and the war heroes.

"Well, he tried to…interview…Major Beck and his wife, who reacted about as you'd expect. Hicks is talking about pressing charges."

Edmonson sat, processing. He'd long figured that something like this would happen to Hicks or his ilk. Using those tactics on soldiers was just a bad idea – soldiers were not trained to look past the 'ambush' part of an ambush interview. He felt a spurt of perverse pride that Edward was the one to take down Hicks.

"Was Hicks seriously hurt?" (He knew better than to think that the major had taken any damage.)

"Broken wrist, sir, but he's more concerned about his camera. Very expensive, I'm told. Says he won't leave until you write him a check."

"Where is Mr. Hicks?"

"Down at the gate."

"And Beck?"

"He's at your place. Your wife is trying to calm Alexandra while he works on Heather."

"How bad is Heather?"

"Full panic attack, sir."

"God_damn_ Hicks." Edmondson looked at his guest, who offered the help of his additional star.

"Would you like me to deal with the idiot? Rank hath its privileges."

"Actually…no. If you want to do me a favor, look the other way. That way you can reprimand me later instead of stopping me in the act."

General Fetterman chuckled.

"As you wish. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Edmondson turned to the lieutenant.

"Bring the son of a bitch here."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Hicks."

"General. Nice to finally talk to someone in charge. So when am I going to get a check for my camera?"

"Never."

His cold, clipped reply befuddled the reporter.

"Why, I – " he spluttered.

In order to make this quick – and not physically maim the idiot in front of him – the general decided to make his remarks short and to the point.

"The reason it will never happen is because you are an idiot who attempted to ambush a soldier fresh out of a combat zone."

"I was just trying to get an interview – and it's a public street."

"You jumped out from behind the corner of a building and stuck a dark metal object in a soldier's face. A soldier, not to put too fine a point on it, who is known to be a tad bit overprotective of his family. You're damned lucky he didn't kill you."

There was a commotion outside, and voices floated into the office.

"Major! You can't - "

And the door swung open, revealing a very pissed Major Beck, who was carrying a very tense Alexandra in his arms. His gaze fastened onto Mr. Hicks.

"You _bastard_. How dare you?"

Hicks was instantly on his feet.

"The people have a right to know – "

"Bullshit. You just wanted a fucking sound bite. And for that, you send my wife into a fucking panic attack?"

"I didn't – "

" – think, no, you didn't. At all. Because if you'd thought about it for two fucking seconds, you'd remember what happened _last _time someone jumped out from behind a building at her."

That was finally enough to shut Mr. Hicks up. Or maybe it was the glare. And then Alexandra's cry broke the scene. Beck made a visible effort to calm himself for his daughter, still glaring at the reporter as he tried to soothe the baby.

"Shhh-hh. Daddy's sorry. Shhh."

"How's Heather?" the general asked.

"Sedated." The word was spat at the reporter in accusation. "I couldn't calm them both down, so…" His efforts with Alexandra were not having much effect, mainly because he wasn't calm himself. The general could see that being in the same room with Hicks was not helping.

"Here, let me take her." He offered. He met Beck's eyes and saw gratitude in them as he handed her over. "Here, come sit in granddad's lap. Shhhh. Shhhhhh." He rocked her gently in the rolling chair until she quieted. She wasn't completely calm, but she wasn't crying. "Atta girl, Alex. Atta girl."

Baby settled, he turned back to the reporter, who now had the strangest look on his face.

"Granddad?"

"Yup."

The reporter looked back and forth between the two men, confused. Everyone knew Beck's father - and that Heather had none. Beck wore a thin, amused smile.

"How - ?"

"Edward is my godson. And my son in law."

Hicks looked between the two one final time, finally realizing he'd get nowhere with these two. He stood to leave.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

The general nodded acknowledgement and gestured to the door, which Hicks used.

The two men looked at each other, until they had to laugh. Alex joined them.

" 'You'll be hearing from my lawyer.' Yeah, right. He might get a lawyer, but no judge will give him the time of day."

"And I hope the lawyer charges him an arm and a leg."

"The _good_ arm, not the broken one."

"I should go check on Heather."

"I'll come with you. Day's almost over anyway."


	25. Chapter 64

Lieutenant Colonel Edward Beck looked over at Heather. When he'd first brought up the ball celebrating the one year anniversary of the reunification, Heather had been adverse to the whole idea. He was slightly puzzled by her reaction; he knew she wasn't the type to go nuts over a dance like some women were, but she seemed to actually want to avoid the whole thing. While Heather claimed her objection was leaving Alexandra with a sitter, he could tell that wasn't the whole reason. She knew either of Alex's grandmothers would be happy to come visit their granddaughter.

It wasn't until, in the effort to persuade her, he mentioned that she could go shopping for a nice dress that he realized her true objection.

He realized that she was still wearing long sleeves in public, despite the warming spring weather. There had been a couple of occasions where she hadn't, and had used makeup to conceal the scars on her wrists and arms, but he'd noticed that people still tried to look for them under the makeup once they realized who she was. So when he mentioned a formal dress, her reaction was understandable. Making polite small talk with high-ranking brass (which, honestly, wasn't Heather's favorite thing to do) while wearing a formal, sleeveless ball gown was not something she would do if she could avoid it.

While he understood her reaction, and would have let her stay home if she wanted to, it still bothered him. It wasn't that he would go alone, but more about her being afraid to do something. Of her admitting there were limits. So when his CO was complaining about how much his wife was spending on a custom dress for the ball, he asked for the seamstresses' business card.

He met the seamstress first, privately, to explain his concerns. She drew up several designs. Under the guise of a date night, he brought her to the downtown district and introduced her to the woman. Heather looked almost betrayed at first, being pressured to go to something she didn't want to attend – until she saw the designs. Then he saw the gratitude in her eyes. She discussed the options with the woman for an hour; Edward watched as Heather finally got to enjoy shopping for a dress. She ended up passing on the outfits with long white gloves for one that had full-length sleeves that were mostly sheer, but had a winding pattern that just happened to cover all her scars.

Thus far, the dress was a huge success. If he wasn't mistaken, Heather had started a new trend. There had been one person who had searched those sheer sleeves for what lay underneath. But that was the reason he'd 'accidentally' spilled red wine on his class A uniform at the last minute. He'd stuck out his class B uniform exposed arm to shake the offender's hand; the diversion was extremely effective. The woman's husband – General Smits – who had commented on the class Bs, had hidden a smile when he recognized what Beck had done.

Heather was mingling with the wives as Edward talked shop with his CO. They were talking about their husbands when one of them asked Heather a question.

"Why doesn't he hold the door for you?"

"What do you mean? He holds the door for me all the time."

"He didn't earlier, he came through the door first. Which is odd, because he seems pretty chivalrous."

She thought about it for a second, realizing that the other woman was right about that. Then another thought hit her.

"Did he scan the room when he came in?"

"You know, I think he did."

"It's a holdover from when we were first seeing each other. I hadn't really thought about it, but he still acts like he's my bodyguard – which includes going through the door first. He usually does hold the door for me after he goes through, though. And he always gets the car door."

That gave the other woman pause.

"You know, that's actually really sweet."

Lt. Colonel Beck was at the bar, waiting for a refill, when he first noticed it. Heather was in a spirited argument with a colonel on the floor. The colonel was fully engaged, despite a persistent lieutenant trying to get his attention. He turned to ask the bartender to hurry up; he _loved_ watching Heather argue with other people. Then there was the distinctive sound of flesh hitting flesh, and his head whipped around.

Heather was pale as a sheet; the stunned colonel had a red mark across his cheek. The lieutenant had a distinct 'I _tried_ to tell you' look on his face. He raced to her, drinks forgotten. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight. What had the colonel said to provoke such a reaction?

"Eddy."

The form of address told him a lot. She hadn't called him Eddy in public, where others could hear, in a long time. Not since…

He looked at the Colonel, who was beginning to come out of his stupor. Colonel Richard Aarens, according to his name plate. Where had he heard that name before? Oh, yes, he'd written a paper…his eyes narrowed as he remembered that the paper had discussed interrogation techniques. He looked Aarens in the eye, feeling the anger rise. Aarens looked like he had finally figured out what the lieutenant had been trying to tell him all along.

"You bastard. Talking about that _here_? Are you stupid?" (Beck peripherally knew that the man he was berating outranked him, but he really didn't care.)

Aarens felt the gathering crowd; he heard the music stop. But somehow that was less important than the look of fury on Beck's face, a look that froze him where he stood. He reminded himself that Beck could – and had – assaulted men for less. When Beck sought to extricate himself from his wife's arms and move in Aarens' direction, his feet broke free of the floor, and he ran out of the ballroom as fast as he could.

Beck watched him go, a glimpse of cold satisfaction on his face. Then, he swept the room with a glare that sent everybody back to their places. He ignored the buzz and took Heather out the other side of the ballroom to recover.

Later that evening, after the speeches, they were happily engaged in dinner when a lieutenant came up to the stage.

"Forgive me for interrupting your meal, but General Vitelli would like to speak to Colonel Aarens ASAP." His comments caused a buzz of conversation. An astute listener would hear a few 'I'll just bet he does' comments buried in the murmur.

"Is he present?" the lieutenant asked. A general 'no' went up from the crowd. "Does anyone know where he went?"

This time he got no answer. However, the lieutenant was the observant type. He noticed that the murmur did not reach one table – the one table that everyone else darted glances to. The one _couple_ that everyone was looking at. Taking a chance, he called out.

"Lieutenant Colonel Beck, do you know where he went?"

The room went quiet.

"I cannot tell you where he went. I can tell you, however, that he was in a great hurry to get there." His delivery was completely straight, provoking a few distinct snorts of laughter. Beck didn't offer any further information. Finally, someone turned the mike off and took the lieutenant aside for an explanation.


	26. Chapter 65

"I hate you! I wish you weren't my dad!"

There was the sudden sound of a pencil snapping from the dining room, followed by her father's voice.

"Go to your room _now_."

Alex blinked in shock. She could count the number of times her father had used his command voice with her on one hand, usually after doing something dangerous with her sister. She turned to go to her room immediately, but not before she heard her mother's shaky voice.

"Tell her, Eddy. She's old enough."

She went to her room with her mother's voice ringing in her ears. _Tell me what? He's not really my dad?_

A couple of minutes later, her father came in, all anger gone.

"Sit down, Alex. There's something we need to discuss." He must have noticed her face, because he went on. "Relax, I am your father. I promise."

She sat, slightly reassured, but still apprehensive about what else there could be. He sat next to her on the bed.

"Have you ever wondered what your mother did in the war?"

She paused for a second at the _non sequitor_.

"Well, yes. All the other kids talk about what their parents did, and they got all weird when Erica asked what mom did in the war. And all mom said when I asked her was 'local liaison'."

"That's because what your mother did, while very brave, is not something people like to discuss."

"Why? What did she do?"

"Well, as liaison, she pissed off Phil Constantino. He put a bounty on her head. I was afraid that seeing me would put her in even more danger, because the ASA had already used my family against me before. So, our relationship was a secret for the first few months." That last bit really wasn't related to the reason for this conversation, but he thought it best to tell the story in order. "Anyway, we'd just found out she was pregnant with you when she was kidnapped by Constantino's men. They wanted information, and they wanted to punish her for helping me fight them." Alex nodded; she'd heard plenty about Constantino. "That's where most of your mother's scars come from. They had her for a week, but she didn't give in, no matter what they did. And they did a lot to her, honey."

"Like what?"

"Well, you've seen her scars. But there's different kinds of scars. Mental scars. And I'm afraid you tore one open with your comment just now."

"That I wish you weren't my dad?"

"Yes."

"But you said you are."

"That's true. But it's also true that I almost wasn't. And it wasn't by your mother's choice." Alex looked at her father, unable – or unwilling – to follow him. "You mother is a very pretty woman. And if she hadn't already been pregnant when she was taken, she very well could have been when we found her."

"You mean – they – while I was – "

"Yes." Alex shuddered, and he put his arm around her. "I'm sorry. I know it's not something you want to hear. That said, perhaps now you can understand how mom feels right about now."

"God."

"It's also one of the reasons she worries about you so whenever you get sick."

"Why?"

"She's afraid that going through all that stress before you were even born may have had some lasting physical effects."

"Do you think so?"

"Not really. If anything, I think it's made you calmer. You don't get stressed out as easily as your sister, perhaps because you had a lot of practice."

"A week doesn't seem like a lot of practice."

"Honey, your mother didn't sleep through the night until some time after you were born. The nightmares wouldn't leave her alone. She relived that hell over and over again. She still does, every so often. I'm sure you've heard her." She looked at her dad, understanding now those times when she'd heard a scream in the night and, peeking into her parent's room, found her mother quietly sobbing in her father's arms.

Alex put her arms around him and squeezed him tight.

"You're a good man."

He squeezed her back, touched.

"Thank you."

They sat there for a minute, just holding each other.

"Guess I should go tell mom sorry."

"That's a good idea." He said, letting her go.

"And I'm really glad you're my father." She told him, kissing him on the cheek as she left the room. As she left, he marveled at what a wonderful daughter he had.


	27. fragments

Author's note:

…and these are just random fragments that I liked but that never found a proper home…

"I always thought they were cute."

"Always? How long have you known?" Jake turned to the major. "When did you tell her?"

"We didn't. She busted us when Heather was in my hospital room."

In spite of it all, Jake had to laugh at that. Beck responded with a sad smile.

"Yeah. Seems a bit juvenile, doesn't it?"

"It sounds like my mom."

Heather looked at the man sleeping beside her. She didn't get to do that very often, even now that she was living with him. She slept – or at least rested – as much as she could. He didn't sleep much at all. And when she woke up, he woke up. She really didn't deserve him.

She noticed his face start to twitch. He was dreaming. But then it turned into a grimace. She reached out to him; he woke with a start, alarmed. She started to ask him what was wrong, but the relief in his eyes at seeing her – and the way he pulled her tightly to him – answered her question. She felt her eyes prickle as she hugged him back.

"I'm here. I'm okay. I'll be okay."

The lieutenant found the major looking down main street at something Heather was pointing at. Beck was squinting, one hand raised to cover his eyes. It was an odd thing for a soldier to do, and then he realized why. He looked down at Heather's head, then Beck's.

"Sir, would you like me to see if they have another cap?"

Beck looked at him, startled. Then he smiled.

"I would appreciate that, lieutenant. Now what did you need to see me about?"

Colonel Sheridan wandered through the cheerful chaos. It was past sundown; the bonfire shed more light than the last rays of the sun. He walked over to soldiers serving what smelled like chili.

"Smells good."

"Does, doesn't it? Want some…sir?"

"Perhaps later…I was looking for Major Beck."

"Over there, sir, with Heather." He said pointing at a blanket with two heads nested on a mound of straw.

"Thank you , private." He began to move in that direction.

"Sir – " he looked back. "Please don't startle Heather." At the expression on the colonel's face, he explained. "She's been through some crap, sir, so she's a bit…nervous… around strange men."

"Ah. Thanks for the tip."

He pondered that for a moment as he walked – it dampened the convivial mood with a reminder that this new world was a dangerous place. At about twenty paces, he called out.

"Major Beck."

The major, attention on the woman in his arms, didn't look up before he began to speak.

"Yes, what is i– sir." What followed was right out of a slapstick comedy as the spinal reflex to salute a superior officer fought with the mass of the woman in his lap and the blanket around them both. She yelped at the shift beneath her and his hand missing her temple by about an inch as it came up. Any temptation to laugh at the scene in front of him was quashed when he saw the absolute lack of a smile on Heather's confused face. He also sensed a sudden tension around him, triggered by her cry.

"As you were, major. Ma'am, I'm truly sorry to have disturbed your seat."

Heather nodded mutely, settling back into the major, whose arms went around her protectively, rearranging the blanket. Standing this close, he could just notice that Heather was pregnant. He waited until she was tucked in, calmed by something Beck whispered into her ear. The background tension dissolved when hers did.

"May I talk to you, major, or is this a bad time?"

Beck looked at Heather, who, after a brief hesitation, gave a minute nod.

"Have a seat." Beck said, pointing at a pile of hay about 7 feet away. It was not the closest seat available, but he could take a hint. "What can I do for you?"


End file.
